Cowards in a Brave New Galaxy
by Philote
Summary: After a bad reaction on an early mission, McKay questions whether he has any place in the field. (teamfic, non-slash, rated for violence)
1. Shock

**Cowards in a Brave New Galaxy**

By Philote

Rating: M

Summary: After a bad reaction on an early mission, McKay questions whether he has any place in the field. (teamfic, non-slash)

Disclaimer: The characters and situations of _Stargate: Atlantis_ do not belong to me. I make no money from this story. Please don't sue.

Warnings: violent imagery

Author's Note: At the beginning of "Suspicion," Sheppard says that they've been on 9 missions, 5 of which contained Wraith encounters. This is my version of one of those missions. So for timeframe, think _very_ early in Season 1.

The title came from a Kim Richey song, "Cowards in a Brave New World."

oOo

Chapter 1: Shock

oOo

"How did you do that?"

John Sheppard turned around, just enough to give him full benefit of his annoyed look. "Sit down, McKay."

"I am sitting." And he was, technically. He was just on the very edge of his seat, leaning over the Major's shoulder. "So how did you do that?"

Sheppard released a long sort of breath that made Rodney think he was mentally counting to ten. "I just thought it," he responded shortly.

"You didn't use the controls?"

"Well, yeah, that too. It's sort of a combination; I just do what feels natural."

Rodney scoffed, "Sure, natural to a pilot. You're going to have to explain better than that, Major, if you intend to teach those of us who aren't."

"Why would I intend that?"

McKay stared at him for a beat, then sputtered, "Because…because everyone with the gene needs to know how to fly these things! Right now you're the only one who's really any good at it. What if something were to happen to you? Where would we be then?"

Sheppard's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What's going to happen to me?"

Rodney threw up his hands. "I don't know! You'll probably tick off some farmer by looking at his daughter the wrong way and get run through with a pitchfork."

"It's more likely that the farmer will be so busy trying to decipher what you're saying, he won't even notice me. And, after a few sentences, I've no doubt that _you_ will be the focus of the shish-ka-bobbing."

"Hey!"

"Luckily, you've got us to protect you."

Rodney started to adopt a highly offended air, but then narrowed his eyes instead. Sheppard was trying to distract him. Well, it wouldn't work. He leaned forward once more, putting his face in the other man's personal space. "So what does this do?" He reached over the Major's shoulder to point at a lever.

His hand was promptly smacked away. "Ow!" he exclaimed indignantly. "Fine. Be that way. We'll just see what Dr. Weir has to say about it, shall we?"

"Okay. You know what? I'll teach the Marines, I'll teach the members of the science team with the gene, I'll even teach Beckett! But you don't need to worry about it, because as long as I'm conscious, you won't be touching these controls."

Rodney gave a frustrated huff and sat back in his seat, mumbling about all the ways an Air Force Major could be rendered unconscious.

"What was that McKay?"

He sneered at the back of the man's head, but crossed his arms over his chest and stewed in silence.

Ford and Teyla had remained wisely quiet throughout this exchange. He looked amused and she looked confused, but neither of them spoke up in his defense or Sheppard's. This was only their second mission as a team, and yet they had already learned it was wise not to interfere in these little pseudo-arguments he had with the Major.

This was not to say that they weren't enjoying them. To be honest, he rather enjoyed them himself. It wasn't often that he found someone willing and able to good-naturedly go toe to toe with him.

That wouldn't stop him from sulking over a loss, however.

He took comfort in the fact that this should be an easy mission. It was basically a meet and greet, a let's-make-new-friends mission, with people Teyla already knew.

The small planet was inhabited by two different people groups, both of which resided far from the gate and as far from each other as they could manage without leaving the landmass. According to Teyla, the two groups were perpetually at odds with each other. She had traded with both, but had a preference for the one near the eastern shore. Sheppard was steering the Jumper in that direction.

After only a few minutes more flying time, Teyla was directing him to land at the edge of a dense forest. As they were strapping on their gear, Rodney spoke up again. "I don't see why we have to park so far away."

"The only ones who have ever come to them in ships are the Wraith. I do not believe they would react well to ours," Teyla explained patiently.

"The Major can cloak it."

"Yes, but there are no closer clearings that are not in direct view of the village. We would have to land nearly on top of them. I believe they would notice."

"He knows that, Teyla. He's just being difficult," Sheppard threw in. "Quit pouting, McKay, and move out."

"I am not four years old. I am not pouting."

He was complaining a bit like a four-year-old, but he rather thought he was entitled. He was a physicist, for crying out loud. He wasn't cut out for long physical treks through hot, sticky forests.

And there were scientists on the Atlantis expedition who were fitter for such duty. He was actually still quite surprised that the Major had chosen him at all.

Nevertheless, here he was, resigning himself to picking his way through undergrowth.

As they moved, he was well aware that Sheppard was cutting the pace for his benefit, without so much as one snide comment about it. He supposed that should make him happy. It was certainly indicative of just how good a leader the Major was. Not that he would ever say that aloud, of course—but he could admit it to himself.

He would also never admit aloud that he might not be able to cut it in the field. But, privately, that was a concern of his. Aside from the physical aspect, there was the people aspect. He was just not a people person. As a general rule, he didn't like people. He found them annoying and tedious, and he wasn't shy about letting them know it. He knew they felt the same about him.

Teyla was a leader, skilled in dealing with people. Sheppard had a boyish sort of charm that seemed to endear him to just about anyone. Ford was respectful and seemed to easily get along with others. Yes, of the four of them, Rodney was definitely the most likely to get himself shish-ka-bobbed.

There was also the little matter of the gun strapped to his thigh, a constant reminder that he would almost certainly have to fire it at some point. He'd had basic training with the handgun. But, more than that, he had read SG-1's mission reports. He'd always been a bit awed at the idea that Daniel Jackson had survived even a couple of weeks.

He pondered all of this as he traipsed through the trees in Teyla's wake. The Major was up front with her, Ford bringing up the rear, with him sandwiched in the middle. He knew he should probably be more alert to his surroundings, with his mind in the moment, but he couldn't just shut off his thoughts. And this line of thinking was keeping his mouth shut, so he expected Sheppard would actually encourage it.

Daniel, he told himself as he avoided a low-hanging branch, _was_ a people person. He liked other cultures, wanted to learn about them. He knew all sorts of languages, and O'Neill had often deferred to him in first contact situations. Heck, Daniel had even lived amongst an alien culture for a year prior to joining the team. He _wanted_ to make friends and actually cared about these people they met.

Of course, despite all of this, Daniel also had a tendency to find trouble. How many times had the anthropologist been close to or actually dead? Rodney had stopped counting before he got halfway through the mission reports. Left for dead with an aquatic alien, addicted to the effects of an alien sarcophagus, trapped in the body of a dying old man, incurable radiation poisoning…and that was just the ones he could remember off the top of his head. The list went on and on.

By the time they stepped out of the trees to the sound of a nearby roaring ocean, he had decided it would be good to stop comparing himself to Daniel Jackson. It only made him want to go home and lock himself in a bubble.

But surely that wasn't characteristic of all the scientists on the off-world teams…right?

He shook his head slightly, abandoning that line of thought as they approached the primitive structures of a village and Teyla began calling out a cheerful greeting.

No one answered.

She seemed a bit confused. "That is odd. Usually there are some working outside, or at the very least someone watching from the entrance who responds." She moved closer and repeated the call a few times.

Still, no one returned the call or came out.

Teyla frowned.

When Teyla frowned, Sheppard grew concerned. He waited through a few more moments of silence, then announced, "All right. Let's check this out. Ford, go right with Teyla, circle around the perimeter. McKay, stick with me."

Obediently, Rodney followed the Major. He realized then that there were no sounds other than the nearby ocean. No audible or visual signs of life. It was decidedly eerie.

They approached the main entry, coming upon a little stone pathway leading under an arch in the tall wall. To the left was what looked to be a little alcove before the entrance.

He was looking up at the carvings on the archway, instead of at the ground. He didn't see it. He slipped on the slick stones in front of the alcove and went down hard on one knee.

Sheppard reacted in time to grab an elbow and keep him from going all the way down on his face. Thank heaven for little favors.

Unfortunately, the awkward sort of kneeling position gave him a perfect line of vision. And after a moment, he realized what he had slipped in. What he was still on his knees in.

Blood.

He shot to his feet, so fast that he slammed into Sheppard. The other man caught him, getting a strong grip to keep him on his feet. He was grateful for that, for between the slickness and the pain in his knee he probably would have fallen again.

Sheppard held that grip for a few minutes as they both stared at the bodies.

Then, "Teyla, Ford, get back over here!" was hissed into the radio.

The Major managed to hold him with one arm and bring his P-90 into a ready position with the other as he took in the situation. Teyla and Ford came hurrying towards them.

Rodney barely noticed any of this. He was completely occupied by the sight in front of him.

There were two of them, a young man and woman. A basket of vegetables was upended near her head, some kind of reddish gourds squashed beside it. It was hard to distinguish between the vegetable pulp and the blood. Copious amounts of blood, pooling beneath them, flowing in tiny rivers away from them in the cracks of the stones. Her head was bashed in. He had at least four wounds in his chest and stomach.

Her eyes were open, staring vacantly in the direction from which they'd come.

Dimly, he heard Teyla's quick intake of breath. He heard Sheppard pulling out the life signs detector, saw him shake his head. He heard Ford and Teyla readying their weapons, heard the Major instructing them to start a cautious search.

Through it all, he stood numbly, staring. It was as if there was a haze between him and the world.

"Are you all right?" came the soft question in his ear, obviously directed at him.

Rodney started, somehow having forgotten that the man was so close, despite the physical support he was still using. He gingerly, absently tested the knee, then pulled away from the Major's grasp. "It'll hold. I'm fine," he stated, choosing not to consider if Sheppard's words had held a deeper implication.

They had, if the measuring look he received was any indication. But it was fleeting, for the Major had a search to conduct. The blood was still trickling; on some level he recognized that that meant this was fairly recent.

"Stay put while we check this out," came the quiet instruction. "Do you hear me, McKay?"

He nodded, absently.

Sheppard turned and, holding the life signs detector before him atop his P-90, moved off with Ford and Teyla, leaving Rodney alone with the bodies. It only took a few seconds before he was edging away from the gore and around the wall, where he could watch the three of them move through the courtyard.

Once there, he almost wished he had stayed where he was.

Two bodies were nothing compared to this. The courtyard was littered with corpses. Everywhere he looked…

Apparently none of them were still breathing, for the Major passed them all by. Rodney tried to keep his eyes on his teammates and off the crimson-stained ground. He watched as the three of them took to a stealthy search. He almost had an urge to laugh. It wasn't as if they hadn't already announced their presence to any murderers who might be hanging about.

He was strangely unconcerned about that possibility. He couldn't seem to get his mind past the bodies. His eyes kept stubbornly straying back to them. So many bodies…everywhere. Perhaps murderer was the wrong word. This was a massacre; a mass execution.

Except that 'execution' connoted an organized, quick, clean strike. There was nothing clean or simple about this. No broken necks or single holes in the head. They all lay in pools of their own blood, leached from wicked-looking wounds.

No, the best word here was definitely 'massacre.'

He limped slowly towards the middle of the settlement, still in a sort of daze. Some scientific, logical branch of his mind found the raised slab in the center interesting; possibly important.

Sheppard glanced back, saw him moving, and tightened his jaw. He didn't comment, however, as he had already cleared that immediate area. He went back to the search with a warning glance. Rodney took that as an okay.

He thought it odd that no bodies were particularly close to the pedestal. In fact, the majority seemed to have been moving away from it. It looked rather like an altar, but if it were a religious thing, wouldn't people have run _to_ it when facing their imminent demise?

He drew closer, hitched his leg up the couple of stairs, and peered.

He was later certain that he had stopped breathing for a full minute at that point.

It was an altar, all right. It held a little girl, no older than five. She had blond, wispy curls. Her eyes were closed. She looked angelic, as if she were merely sleeping.

It was a beautiful illusion, marred by the gaping wound in her chest. He doubted there was a drop of blood left in her. It was all pooled beneath her and running in slow rivulets off the pedestal.

Her arms were above her head, thin wrists together, as if she'd been held down. He didn't need a cultural lesson to know that she'd been some sort of sacrifice. A live, human sacrifice.

He swallowed hard and shut his eyes. It didn't work; he could still see it in his mind. He gagged on his next breath and forced himself to turn around.

But everywhere he looked, there were bodies.

His team members had apparently concluded they were alone. Dimly he heard Teyla talking about a path to the gardens and down to the beach, and Sheppard saying that they should probably check it out.

They were gathered only a few yards away, but it seemed like much farther.

He heard Ford question, "You think it was Wraith?"

Teyla responded, "The Wraith would not do this. They take what they need to feed or preserve victims for later. They do not simply kill."

An incredulous 'Simply?' was the one coherent thought Rodney latched onto. He felt lightheaded and nauseous. He wasn't sure whether to run for the bushes or sit down right there before he fell down.

As long as he was in sight of that little girl…he could hear the slight pinging sound of blood drops hitting stone…

He decided on the bushes.

Behind him he heard Sheppard's concerned, "McKay?" but he was a bit too occupied to answer.

He made it to some low shrubbery at the side of one of the buildings. There he fell hard to his hands and knees. The pain that shot up his right leg as a result only fueled the retching. He gripped handfuls of grass to ground himself as he brought up everything he had eaten that morning.

After a few long minutes of this, he calmed enough to become aware of a quiet presence kneeling beside him.

"Easy, Doc," Ford said softly as he realized he'd been noticed.

Terrific. Sheppard had sent him a babysitter.

Then the Lieutenant was shifting the pack from Rodney's back as he explained quietly that the Major and Teyla had gone on to search the path. He pulled out Rodney's canteen for him. McKay thought he should protest, insist that he was fine and tell Ford to go back and help Sheppard. But he felt the young man take hold of his arm in support, and he really didn't want Ford to go.

He accepted the canteen, rinsed his mouth out, and tried to calm his breathing. After a moment, he started talking to fill the silence. "I don't know what…I mean, I've never seen…who or what would do something like that? Do we really even want to know? It's not as if we can help them now."

He noticed when Ford abruptly turned his attention back towards the courtyard, but he didn't think much of it. He kept talking. "I mean, I specialize in technology, and wormhole physics, and _not_ primitive people who go around getting themselves gutted…"

He was babbling a bit hysterically, and on some level he recognized that. But he didn't, or couldn't, stop.

Then the fingers around his arm tightened painfully. "Shh!" Ford hissed urgently.

Rodney shut up, a sense of dread washing through him.

For now he could hear what had Ford up in arms. He thought for a few endless moments that whoever had massacred those people had come back for more. His breath came in shallow spurts as he craned his head, following the Lieutenant's line of vision.

What he caught sight of stole his breath entirely.

No, no, no, he couldn't deal with this right now.

Ford breathed the word, barely a whisper. "Wraith."

oOo

tbc

Reviews are appreciated!


	2. Fear

**Cowards in a Brave New Galaxy**

By Philote

oOo

Chapter 2: Fear

oOo

Ford gripped his other arm and urged him up and around the back of the building, into the cover of the trees there. Rodney fell to his knees again, gripping a tree trunk for dear life. Then, he remembered that it was important to breathe. He sucked in air, fighting to clear the darkness that was trying to steal his vision.

Ford crouched beside him, one hand on his gun and the other still gripping Rodney's arm, as if he could keep him together by holding onto him. He watched the young man, knowing that he was watching the Wraith. Dark eyes tracked slowly past their position, in the direction that the Major and Teyla had taken towards the beach.

After a few moments Ford spoke very softly into the radio. "Major, you've got a Wraith party coming up on your six."

"Wraith!" came the quiet, incredulous answer. "I thought we agreed it wasn't Wraith."

"I don't know what to tell you, sir. They're definitely here now. I count four; three of the guards with the masks, one without."

"All right. We'll try to make ourselves scarce. Stay put, Lieutenant. There could be more."

"Yes, sir." Ford released the radio and shifted his weight slightly, eyes never leaving the courtyard.

Beside him, Rodney gulped. His breathing was still erratic. His survival instincts said to run. His brain told him he wouldn't make it two feet before he collapsed. Through it all, despite the imminent danger, he still kept flashing to all of the bodies such a short distance away. He must have made some noise of distress, for Ford loosened the vice grip on his arm and kneaded his fingers lightly in a sort of comforting motion. "Easy, Doctor McKay. Stay with me here."

"Where else am I going?" he retorted, without any of his usual venom.

Ford rewarded him with a slight smile, then released him to reach for his pack and canteen, which he had apparently dragged into the trees with them. Rodney had forgotten all about them.

Ford handed them to him. "Drink some more," he instructed quietly, then turned his full attention back to their surroundings.

Rodney obediently screwed the cap off the canteen. As he sipped, it occurred to him that at least part of his disconnected feeling was probably due to low blood sugar. He should really eat a power bar.

But the mere thought of trying to force down food made him choke on a sip of water. He held in the coughing, trying to be as quiet as possible, and soon found himself breathless once more.

Ford gripped his shoulder to steady him, and he flapped his hand at him in a sort of way that was supposed to indicate he was all right.

The radio crackled. "Ford? You two all right?" came Sheppard's soft voice.

"Yes, sir. I haven't seen any more movement; I think the four of them are it."

"Good. We can hear them on the path above us. We're gonna take cover and try to take them out."

Ford grimaced, and Rodney gulped again. Four to two were not good odds when one was dealing with Wraith.

Ford spoke up again. "I can help you out, sir. I can come up behind them. They didn't notice us; I've got surprise on my side."

The Major hesitated.

Then, "Negative. Take McKay and head back to the Jumper."

Rodney found himself shaking his head. "I'm all right," he croaked, and it was possibly the biggest and most obvious lie he'd ever told.

But he had to be all right, because Sheppard and Teyla could easily be killed here. Ford needed to help them. Rodney needed to get himself under control.

But Ford was saying, "Yes, sir."

Out of it though he might be, Rodney still wasn't disillusioned about how much help he would be against Wraith. "Leave me here and go help them," he told Ford, and tried to sound authoritative.

Apparently it wasn't convincing. Or perhaps the fact that he was still pale and trembling had done him in. Whatever the reason, Ford eyed him and shook his head. "I can't do that, Doc. The Major gave me an order."

"Screw the chain of command." His voice cracked disturbingly, but he pressed on. "You have a responsibility to keep him alive."

"I have the same responsibility to you. So, you and me are gonna get out of here and head back to the Jumper. Come on," he instructed, pulling him to his feet and reaching to help him with his pack. That done Ford studied him for a moment, apparently weighing his options. Then he stepped close, reached to Rodney's thigh, and pulled the gun from its holster. He pressed it forcefully into his hand, and Rodney stared as his fingers seemed to curl around it of their own accord.

Then Ford stepped back, and caught his eyes. "You remember your training, right? Take the safety off," he instructed.

Rodney stared at him for a moment, then, still feeling slightly surreal, he did as he'd been told.

Ford watched, then nodded when McKay looked back to him. "All right. Only shoot if you have to; I'd rather get out of here without any encounters. Be as quiet as you can, and whatever you do," he winced and touched the barrel of the gun, pushing it away from himself, "_don't _point the gun in my direction _or_ at yourself," he added when Rodney pulled it back and it tilted towards his own chest. He knew that, of course. He'd been taught. The information just seemed to be getting lost somewhere between his brain and his fingers.

Ford was looking a bit uncertain about this, but still said, "Okay?"

McKay nodded jerkily, though there was nothing okay about any of this.

"Stay close." With the one last instruction, Ford turned and began quietly making his way through the tree line towards the front of the settlement. Rodney took him perhaps too literally, walking so close that he almost ran into him three times before they'd passed two of the buildings. When Ford shot him a frustrated look he tried to back off, but quickly found if he wasn't immediately in Ford's wake he had trouble navigating the undergrowth. He felt clumsy and awkward and kept reaching out his right hand to steady himself, only to find that he'd forgotten he was holding the gun. Through it all his heart pounded and he fought for clear thought through a stubborn disoriented feeling that would not go away.

Then, from the direction of the shore, the gunshots started to sound.

Rodney violently flinched at the first round and almost dove for cover, despite the obvious distance of the shots. In front of him Ford tensed, glancing in that direction, and Rodney knew he was thinking that he should be over there. He might have even encouraged him again to go, if he'd been able to speak. As it was, he felt like he was being choked by his fear.

As the spurts of shots continued in the background, Ford motioned for him to move again.

A few tense moments and another building later, the radio crackled. "Ford—we've only got two on us," the Major informed them urgently.

If possible, the Lieutenant became even more tense. He held up a hand to halt Rodney's movement. "Understood, sir," he responded quietly.

With his thought process a bit befuddled as it was, it took Rodney a moment to figure out what that meant. Four…minus two…oh, God.

If they weren't focused on the Major and Teyla, they probably knew someone else was here. They were probably searching the settlement.

They were probably very close by.

Ford crept closer to the buildings, looking for any sign of movement. Rodney tried desperately to get his harsh, ragged breathing under control, fearing the Wraith would hear it.

Suddenly, he thought he glimpsed something out of the corner of his eye. He turned, feeling as if everything was in slow motion.

There was nothing there.

He frowned, thinking absently that this was a lousy time to start having delusions. But then, there it was again. Like a shadow of something, moving quickly through the trees in front of him.

He tried to motion to Ford, but the lieutenant was focused on the courtyard. Feeling the adrenaline coursing through him, he raised the pistol. And a second later, when he saw it again, it was heading straight at him. He pulled the trigger.

The shot was near deafening in the silence.

The thing, whatever it was, vanished into nothing like a wisp of smoke. The recoil almost knocked him off his feet.

Ford spun back to him, eyes wide.

For his part, Rodney froze. Now he remembered…the Wraith make you see things that aren't there.

He was shooting at nothing, and now he'd given away their position.

Ford reacted, shoving him unceremoniously into the brush. He hissed, "Stay put and don't make a sound," then stepped away on his own with his P-90 raised.

Rodney scrambled into a sitting position, pressed hard against a tree trunk, eyes squeezed shut. He clutched the gun with both hands against his chest and tried not to hyperventilate.

He could hear heavy, hurrying footsteps coming in their direction. After a moment he hurriedly shrugged out of his pack, feeling suffocated by the weight. Then he screwed up what little courage he could find and turned until he could see what was going on.

Ford took up a stance a few yards in front of him, between the two buildings. He raised his P-90 and pointed it steadily, waiting for them to appear.

And, sure enough, it was only a matter of seconds before they came marching into view.

Two of them, one with the funky mask covering his face and the other without. Funny, Rodney hadn't realized how big they would look up close.

Ford opened fire. The masked one stepped in front of the other, taking the bullets and firing back with its stunner. Ford dodged, rolled, and came up shooting again. Rodney jerked behind the tree, cowering, and then finally peeking out again a few moments later.

Ford was hitting it, but it just kept coming. It had advanced to only a few feet away, the other one staying close behind it and hissing in what Rodney supposed was some sort of approval or encouragement.

Finally, Ford hit the masked guard in the head, and it went down. But then the other one, the one that actually had a visible face, kept coming. It stepped over its friend and reached him, then yanked the gun from his gasp. In one move, too quick for the Lieutenant to reach for his pistol, it sent him flying a good ten feet. Rodney could do little but watch in horror as Ford slammed into the side of the building. There was an ominous thud as his head cracked against the stone and a sickening crunch that was probably one or more important bones breaking.

Then he fell, limp and unconscious, to the ground.

The Wraith sneered, and moved towards him.

And, finally, Rodney got his legs to move. He stumbled slightly as he lunged from his hiding place and forced his body between Ford and the Wraith.

The Wraith paused, sizing him up like a brand new toy placed between it and its broken one.

Rodney raised the gun, and pointed it. He was somewhat concerned by how violently it shook. He brought his other hand up to support it, then pulled the trigger.

He missed by over a foot.

The Wraith took a step toward him, so he tried again. This time he clipped it in the arm. It rolled its shoulder and just kept coming. It smiled at him, lips curling upward to reveal a mouthful of sharp, pointy teeth.

And Rodney went somewhere else. His body stayed protectively in front of Ford, but his mind retreated to a clinical, scientific zone to ponder the development of such teeth in a species that did not consume through the mouth. The gun remained pointing as the Wraith advanced on him, but it did not fire. It was as if he were watching it all from above, unable to send physical messages to his body anymore.

It drew close enough to touch, then knocked the gun from his hand. It was still smiling that ethereal smile with those superfluous teeth as it reached for his chest.

When the shots rang out, succinctly and quickly, he could not quite grasp what was happening. The Wraith spun away from him, snarling. Five more shots, and it stumbled before falling in a heap at his feet.

In the now empty place where it had stood, he saw Sheppard lowering his gun and hurrying towards him. His eyes then traveled to the ground, staring at the Wraith.

"McKay?" Sheppard called as he went to Ford, checking for a pulse.

Rodney didn't answer, he just continued to stare. Teyla came closer, and he wondered why he hadn't noticed her presence until now. She pointed her weapon at the Wraith, prepared for it to awaken. "Doctor?" she questioned with concern.

Still, he couldn't answer.

"McKay! McKay, look at me!" Then there were fingers on his chin, gripping hard, turning his head until he was staring into Major Sheppard's face.

The Major's expression gave him pause. It wasn't angry really, but it was very intense, urgent. "Snap out of it. I need you here."

Rodney cut wide eyes from him to Ford's limp form. "Is he alive?" he finally choked out.

"Yes. He's out cold, but he's alive. Are you injured?"

"Huh?" he asked dumbly.

"McKay, are you hurt?" Sheppard asked more forcefully, grasping his shoulders and turning him so he could physically look him over.

"Oh. No. I'm fine," he answered distractedly, not even bothering to protest the manhandling.

Sheppard seemed doubtful, but apparently didn't find anything life-threatening. He released him, looking to the two Wraith. "I think the two on the beach are down to stay," he commented. He looked at the wounds Ford had inflicted on the guard. "Head shots seem to do the most damage."

He looked to Teyla, and she nodded, then took careful aim and shot two bullets into the head of the one she was guarding.

Blood and grayish matter spattered to the ground at Rodney's feet. He felt his stomach churn again and looked away, drawing in a deep breath through his nose. "I'm gonna just…sit," he announced, then plopped down beside Ford, shifting until he was facing the wall and not looking at any dead things.

Sheppard knelt beside them, touching Rodney's back briefly before shifting his attention back to Ford. He began to examine him more closely. "Probable concussion, broken arm, couple of cracked ribs…at the very least…" he catalogued aloud, concern clear in his voice. He pulled a bandage from his vest, folding it and pressing it to the oozing head wound. Ford didn't stir.

Sheppard kept his hand where it was and glanced to the two Wraith, then to Teyla. "We still don't know if there may be more out there. We need to get moving to the Jumper."

But even as he said it, the Major was grimacing at Ford's condition. As it stood, he would probably have to sling the young man over his shoulder and carry him. That could not be good for those wounds.

Teyla stated the obvious. "We should move him no more than we have to. You should go get the ship, and come back for us. I will stay with him." She shouldered her weapon as she spoke, coming over to them and offering to take the bandage from the Major.

Rodney felt panic flair again—he didn't want to stay here.

It was obvious that Sheppard didn't want to leave them here, either. But it was the best option available to him. He finally nodded acceptance and let her take over trying to staunch the blood flow. Then he stood, his gaze falling to Rodney.

He glanced to Teyla, then back to Sheppard. They were both watching him. He wondered if the fear was obvious on his face, and pointedly looked away.

Then Sheppard was kneeling again, this time directly in front of him. "McKay," he said, with an odd mix of gentleness and urgency. "Will you be all right here?"

It was hard, because it was the absolute last thing he wanted to say. But this had to be about Ford, not him. He nodded. "I'd only slow you down, Major," he said softly. "Go."

Sheppard met his eyes and held the gaze, searching. After a moment, he nodded and addressed them both. "All right. Get into the cover of the trees, and don't come out until I call you. Fix him up as much as you can with the First Aid kit. Stay in radio contact; I'll be back as soon as I can."

He stood, then paused. He went back to the Wraith bodies, and put two more shots in each head for good measure.

Rodney flinched with each report of the gun.

Then Sheppard nodded to Teyla, came closer again to give Rodney's shoulder a single squeeze, and turned to hasten out of the settlement.

oOo

tbc


	3. Numbness

**Cowards in a Brave New Galaxy**

By Philote

oOo

Chapter 3: Numbness

oOo

Rodney's eyes tracked the Major until he disappeared from sight through the entrance archway. Then his gaze naturally flickered back to the courtyard, back to the bodies once more. He could see the pedestal from here. And in his mind's eye he could still see that angelic young face, framed by golden curls, utterly lifeless…

He fought the urge to jump up, run after the Major, and beg not to be left here.

Here, where the coppery stench of blood overwhelmed the sea breeze and the blooming flowers, where death was the guest of honor and Wraith came to crash the party.

He noticed absently that his thoughts were getting poetic, and that was never a good sign.

"Doctor?"

He jumped at Teyla's voice, but turned to face her, wondering how long he'd been staring silently.

She gestured for him to come closer. "I should splint his arm; if you could hold the bandage?"

He hesitated for a beat, then nodded wordlessly and scooted closer, taking the bloodied bandage with a trembling hand. As she walked the short distance to the trees, he stared transfixed at the dribbling red stream leaching from the young man's temple. Then he shook himself slightly and pressed the cloth back to it. To Teyla he called, "Head wounds bleed a lot, right? I mean, the fact that it's still bleeding; that doesn't necessarily mean it's that bad. Right?"

"I really do not know," she confessed, coming back with a short, sturdy stick.

As Teyla fished into her vest pocket for another bandage, his attention returned to Ford. Though there was less blood, he still looked like all those other bodies…

His fingers drifted, seemingly of their own accord, down to Ford's neck. There they flitted about a bit, searching for the carotid pulse. Rodney's breathing came a bit easier when they found it, a slow but steady little thump against his fingertips.

Teyla knelt beside them again, setting the unrolled bandage on the ground and reaching for the arm. "The pain will be great; he may awaken."

'_That would be a small miracle,'_ Rodney thought as he took another look at the head wound.

He wasn't really expecting it to happen. So when she manipulated the bone and Ford suddenly came to life with a strangled scream, his immediate reaction was to drop the bandage and jump backwards.

"Doctor McKay!" Teyla cried, unable to restrain Ford and hold onto the injured arm.

Rodney still sat observing in shock for a few seconds before he forced himself to move again and got hold of Ford's shoulders, holding him down.

Dark eyes at half-mast looked up at him in bleary confusion.

Rodney took one look at the unequal pupils and knew that there was a concussion; knew they should try to keep him awake. Unfortunately, as soon as he had the thought those eyes rolled back in Ford's head as he fell unconscious once more.

"Ford?" he called once, then resorted to shaking. "Ford!"

"Doctor!" Teyla complained as his actions jerked the arm again, and she was only half done wrapping it.

He backed off with a sigh, as Ford was out again anyway. He watched as she tied off the bandage and then carefully laid the splinted arm across the young man's chest. "We should try to move him into the trees now," she said then.

Rodney looked at him doubtfully. "I'm not sure we should move him at all without a backboard."

"I agree, but it is only a short distance and it is a risk we must take. Can you help me carry him?"

"Sure," he said automatically, though in reality he wasn't even sure if he could get himself up right then.

In the end, she took his upper body, supporting his head as best she could. Rodney fought with the pain in his knee, but was finally able to take Ford's legs as they managed an odd sort of shuffle into the nearby trees.

They settled him back to the forest floor. Rodney sat down hard beside him, wincing and stretching out his leg. Teyla was wrapping a fresh bandage around the head wound when she looked up to him and asked with concern, "Are you all right?"

He nodded jerkily. "Yeah. I'll be fine."

She continued to look troubled, but Ford was her more immediate problem. They sat in silence for many long minutes as she routinely checked Ford and their surroundings.

Eventually, they heard something overhead, though they could see nothing. It sounded like a Jumper, but then, Rodney didn't really know if all ships sounded the same. It could be a Wraith dart, for all he knew.

He reached to his thigh, to the empty holster, and realized then that he didn't know what had happened to his gun. "Teyla, where's my gun?" he questioned, glad it was her and not one of the two men. That was not a question to ask of a military officer who'd drilled you about gun safety.

"I believe the Major took it," she responded absently, her attention still acutely on their surroundings.

He wondered briefly what exactly that meant about the Major's opinion of him, but he found he couldn't hang onto any deep thoughts for long at the moment.

They waited anxiously for the radio call, but none came.

After a few long minutes, Teyla spoke up a bit reluctantly. "I should investigate and make sure it is Major Sheppard," she said softly. "I will not go far. Will you be all right?"

Again he automatically replied, "Sure." As he watched her ease herself from their hiding place, he thought that he really needed to get himself another rote, knee-jerk answer…like 'no.' 'No' would be good.

And now he was back in the tree line, alone with Ford. He resisted the urge to whimper, and found that his eyes locked on the two downed Wraith so uncomfortably close by. They hadn't moved, there was no way they should be getting up now. Nevertheless, he reached to retrieve Ford's pistol and nudged the safety off.

He sat for long tense moments, holding the gun so tightly that his knuckles turned white and began to ache. Then, he heard the noise of footsteps approaching.

He raised the pistol; watched it shake again as he pointed it in the direction of the sounds.

It was some kind of miracle that he didn't pull the trigger when they appeared.

It was Sheppard and Teyla, carrying a litter between them. Rodney started breathing again, staring at Sheppard.

The Major stared right back at him and handed the litter off to Teyla. "McKay? Why don't you put that down, huh?"

He blinked. He hadn't realized he was still pointing the gun. He lowered it quickly. Sheppard came to him, reaching for it cautiously, and Rodney gratefully handed it over.

"You're all wet," he announced needlessly.

Sheppard actually looked a bit sheepish. "Yes, well…I tried to take a more direct route back to the Jumper. There was a river, and well…we don't need to dwell on that. I knocked out my radio."

This, of course, was terrific material for merciless teasing. Rodney said nothing, just sort of nodded.

Sheppard pulled him to his feet before turning his attention to Ford. Rodney stood back as they shifted the Lieutenant and strapped him to the litter, figuring the best thing he could do was stay out of the way. Then they finally stood, one on each end, and began heading back through the settlement. Rodney started to limp after them, then paused. He stood rooted for a few seconds with the realization—he was going to have to walk through the bodies again.

"Let's go McKay!" Sheppard called behind him.

Wanting to be left alone even less than he wanted to walk through the carnage, he began to hobble after them.

He made it to the front of the settlement by keeping his eyes straight ahead on his teammates. But when he reached the stone path, he knew he had to look down to avoid slipping again. As soon as he did, his eyes tracked the lines of blood back to the two bodies they'd seen first. He froze, staring at them once more.

"Rodney." He jumped; turned in surprise. Sheppard had never called him by his first name before. The man was close, and looking over his shoulder Rodney realized that Teyla and Ford were already on the Jumper. How long had he been standing there?

A gentle hand gripped his elbow, prodding him along. "Let's get out of here."

"Yeah. Okay."

He allowed himself to be led to the Jumper and directed to a seat. He sat obediently, watching as Sheppard went to Ford. Teyla had secured him and sat down on the seat beside him. Sheppard checked him over quickly and exchanged a few words with Teyla. Rodney watched, but spaced out as he stared, his thoughts unfocused.

"McKay? You all right?" There were fingers on his face again, directing his gaze, much more gently than last time. Sheppard gave him a slight smile when he had his attention. "Because Weir is going to be seriously pissed if I broke the head scientist after only two missions," he teased lightly.

Rodney felt a flash of emotion then, and pulled away from the fingers. "I'm not the broken one here, Major. You want to fawn over somebody, make it Lieutenant Ford," he snapped. "He's the one with the bleeding head wound."

The other man sighed. "Well, there's the McKay we all know and love." Sheppard straightened, patting him on the shoulder.

Rodney flinched from the touch again, abruptly not wanting anyone that close. The Major gave him an indecipherable look, but backed off, heading for the pilot's seat.

Take-off was a blur for Rodney. He ignored his surroundings entirely, focused on the seat across from him. He watched as Teyla stroked the young man's head, talking to him softly. Ford moaned slightly, hovering on the edge of consciousness.

Rodney wondered if Ford had ever seen anything like that massacre before. He supposed that the Major probably had, and that Teyla as a leader in this Galaxy might have as well. She'd certainly seen villages culled by the Wraith, and he suspected that those corpses were probably even more disturbing.

But he still had trouble thinking of Ford as more than just a kid. He had to remind himself that the young man was a Lieutenant, and thus far appeared to be a good and disciplined soldier. It was the off-duty times when he showed his youth and almost childlike exuberance. It was these times that had left Rodney with the impression that Aiden Ford still had a good amount of innocence.

But Ford had held up like a seasoned soldier. It was Rodney who had reacted like a terrified child.

Dimly, he was aware of Sheppard activating the gate and speaking. "Atlantis, this is Sheppard. We're going to be needing a med-team."

oOo

Dr. Beckett was waiting for them when the back door of the Jumper opened. He came in, surveyed them all quickly, then went directly to the Lieutenant.

Rodney watched as Carson gave Ford a cursory examination. "What happened, exactly?" the accented voice asked as he gently probed the head wound.

Silence followed the question. Carson finally turned his attention from Ford to Teyla, who shook her head. "Major Sheppard and myself were not there," she explained.

Another beat of silence, then, "McKay?"

The low, prompting voice was very close. Rodney jumped, not having noticed that Sheppard had come to stand right beside him. He turned to stare at the man blankly.

Sheppard cleared his throat, then nodded towards Ford. "Carson wants to know what happened, McKay."

"Oh." Rodney blinked, then looked back to Beckett. "Uh, there was a Wraith. And, the building…" He held up his left hand to represent the wall. "It grabbed him…" His right hand became Lieutenant Ford. "And then…boom." He clapped his right hand into his left helpfully, and fell silent.

Now Carson really looked at him for the first time, an odd expression on his face. And yet, he didn't talk to him. "Major?" he asked in a concerned tone.

"It's a long story, Doc. He's okay, physically. I think."

Rodney was somewhat irked that they were talking about him as if he wasn't right there. He was fine; they should be taking care of Ford. He said as much.

Carson nodded, though his eyes still brimmed with concern as he looked at Rodney. He turned away to call his team forward and helped transfer the young man onto a stretcher. Then he motioned them on to the Infirmary. Teyla followed, and Rodney thought that he should as well. He tried to stand.

A stab of pain went through his knee. He had been unprepared for this; he had forgotten that he had hurt it. He sat back down, hard, with a slight gasp.

"Rodney?"

And then Carson was in front of him, kneeling, looking intently at his lower leg.

"It's not his," Sheppard said.

This confused him. What wasn't his?

Sheppard continued, "He slipped and hit the knee pretty hard. But he was able to walk on it. The blood isn't his."

Blood?

He looked down then, followed their gazes. And…oh, God.

His knee, his leg, his boots…he was covered in their blood.

He was vaguely aware that his breathing was growing shallow again, coming in spurts.

Carson noticed immediately. "Easy, Rodney. You're all right," he said soothingly, taking hold of his wrist lightly. As Carson's thumb rested against his pulse point, he could see how badly his hand was shaking in the grip.

He tolerated the touch, but when he glanced up at met Carson's concerned gaze he quickly looked away.

"I think he's a bit shocky," Carson said to the Major. "I should get us another stretcher."

That brought his attention abruptly to the present. "No, you won't. I'm fine."

"Rodney, I don't have time to argue with ye."

"Of course you don't. So just go; help Ford. I'll see you around."

Carson huffed in frustration. "Rodney—"

Then the doctor's attention was drawn to the side, and he looked over Rodney's head to the Major. But the time McKay realized this and turned to look, Sheppard was innocently looking at him as he volunteered, "I'll get him there."

Beckett still looked a bit apprehensive, but he left. Sheppard watched him go, then reached for the scientist.

Rodney pulled away before contact was made. "I do not need help," he said automatically.

Sheppard just gave him a look. "Me or the stretcher, McKay. You choose."

Frowning fiercely, he held out an arm to Sheppard. The Major pulled him to his feet. At that point he realized that perhaps Carson had been right, for dizziness washed over him and he had to hold tight to Sheppard to keep from collapsing.

He felt a strong arm wrap around his waist. "Hey, you with me here?"

He nodded. "Sorry…just need a minute…"

"You sure about the stretcher? Because I may end up having to carry you through Atlantis, and I refuse to take the blame for the ribbing you'll get from everybody if they get that visual."

Rodney cracked a slight smile and carefully pushed away to take some of his own weight back. "Believe me Major, I will do everything in my power to avoid that."

It was a long trip to the infirmary. He still had that disconnected feeling, and he was strangely grateful for his hurt knee as the pain kept him grounded in reality. It was, however, forcing him to lean on the Major pretty heavily. Sheppard had a strong grip on his bicep and an arm behind his back, bracing him and urging him forward.

When they finally made it, the Major escorted him to a bed, helped him up onto it, and stayed at his side as one of the doctors made his way over. He glanced over to where Carson was treating Ford, but didn't move in that direction.

Sheppard seemed more concerned about _him_ than Ford, and that seemed odd to him. Not just because Ford was by far the more injured, but also because Ford was Ford and Rodney was Rodney. Ford was strong, good under pressure, and generally likable. He and the Major had had an almost instant camaraderie. And he was a definite asset to the team. Rodney was…the opposite of all of that.

Maybe the Major was just more concerned that Rodney was going to break.

That thought made sense. And, if nothing else, it brought some emotion back to him.

Sheppard was watching as the doctor took scissors to his pant leg, cutting access to the knee. Abruptly Rodney snapped, "Don't you have something better to do?" The doctor looked up at him in surprise, and Rodney flapped a hand at him. "Not you. Him."

"Ford's being taken care of, and he's not conscious. You are." Sheppard shrugged as if hovering over him was the obvious course of action.

Rodney cast him a doubtful look, but then had his attention redirected. He winced in pain as the doctor delicately removed the material covering the knee, then felt his eyes widen as he got his first actual look at the skin. The knee was swollen to twice its normal size and was tinged beginning to tinge purple with bruising.

Leaning over his shoulder Sheppard pronounced, "Ew. That's really not pretty."

"Thank you Major, for that terribly astute observation." He tried to act as if the sight and the pain weren't making him feel slightly sick. "Can't you make him go away?" he complained to the other man.

Rodney still couldn't remember the doctor's name, and he didn't really bother trying to do so. But the man earned a notch of respect in his book when he looked to Sheppard and said, "I really should conduct this exam in private, Major."

Rodney watched as they eyed each other. Sheppard was ultimately in charge of this mission, along with Elizabeth. But this was the Infirmary, this doctor wasn't military, and this was his domain. Rodney smirked slightly as he enjoyed the sight of someone standing up to the Major and refusing to be intimidated by him.

Then he went and ruined the moment as a wave of dizziness hit him. He swayed, murmured a slight "Whoa," and tilted dangerously towards the Major.

Sheppard reacted, catching him easily enough with a "Whoa" of his own.

The next few minutes were a total blur. But when the room righted itself and he could hear past the roar in his ears, he was lying flat on the bed.

Sheppard's concerned face appeared over him. "You back with us?"

Rodney grunted noncommittally and turned his head to see what the doctor was doing. He wished he hadn't, for at that moment a needle was being inserted into his skin.

"I'm just inserting an IV, Doctor McKay. Your blood sugar's low and you're a bit dehydrated."

He groaned and turned back, looking at Sheppard again. The Major offered him a smile. "You're not getting away from us that easily, McKay."

Rodney stared at him grumpily, then turned his head back to the doctor. "I thought you were making him go away," he complained blearily.

Oddly enough, Sheppard didn't seem to take this as a personal insult. He also didn't protest this time. Perhaps he thought that, now that Rodney was lying flat and hooked up to something, he was under better control.

Whatever the reason, he said, "Fine. I'll go watch over Ford for a while." Sheppard squeezed his shoulder. Rodney weighed his desire to pull away against the strength it would take to do so, then lay still and tolerated it as the Major leaned closer and said, "But I will be back."

Rodney watched him walk away through half-lidded eyes. He knew that he had screwed up and handled everything horribly on this mission. Sheppard had had a duty to him in the field, but now that that duty was fulfilled and Rodney was back in one piece, he wondered why the man still seemed to care so much.

oOo

tbc


	4. Doubt

**Cowards in a Brave New Galaxy**

By Philote

oOo

Chapter 4: Doubt

oOo

Rodney stood, looking up at a clear blue sky. After a moment he shifted his gaze, looking down. He was standing before a familiar slab of stone. He glanced upwards again and slowly spun around, finding a circle of people standing around the courtyard.

He looked back when he heard footsteps collide with the stone steps on the opposite side of the pedestal. A man clothed in a long robe approached, and deposited his burden on the slab.

She lay still, though terrified blue eyes were wide and darting about, taking everything in. Rodney met her gaze, easily recognizing the plea for help in her eyes.

A second man joined them on the pedestal, taking a stance near her head. He gripped the two little wrists and forced her arms above her head, holding her down.

She began to whimper then, and squirm slightly. But there was nowhere for her to go.

The knife was long and sharp. Rodney stared at it as the light glinted off the blade.

The first man cut a slow, shallow cut across the girl's lower chest. She began to cry. He ignored the sound, and made an identical cut, crisscrossing the first.

Rodney snapped out of his shock then. "Hey, stop. Stop it!" His yells mixed with her screams, both sounds impotent.

The man quickly grew tired of the screams and complaints. Tired of the slow blood-letting. He raised the knife high, point down.

Then he plunged it into her chest. Once; twice.

Her blood spattered onto all three of them, onto Rodney's shirt.

When her screaming stopped, his died in his throat as well.

Over his harsh breathing, other sounds began to filter in. A soft swish of friction as the man wiped the knife clean. The girl's last breaths, shallow and pained. Nearby people, cheering.

"_Rodney!_"

oOo

"Rodney!"

He came awake with a start, to a sharp burst of pain in his left hand. He tried to sit up but met restraint, which it took a moment for him to identify as hands gripping his shoulders.

He clawed at his chest and looked down, expecting to see the blood, confused when there was none on his shirt and the only red seemed to be a small bit on the back of his hand.

He looked up then, long enough to identify Carson's concerned face and Atlantis' infirmary. Long enough to realize that it had been a dream, but it had been born of his memories of the planet.

"Oh God, oh God…"

He must have turned green or something, for Carson released him and then a basin hastily appeared before him. He had nothing on his stomach to throw up, but somehow the bit of bile followed by dry heaves was worse.

He was vaguely aware of Carson's continued presence, supporting him gently and softly instructing him to calm down. Long minutes later the retching finally stopped, and the basin was removed.

"Lie back for me, Rodney."

He tried to relax back into the pillow as Carson probed. As he gained his bearings, he realized that he had jerked out his IV. He began to glance around at his bedside and the rest of the Infirmary.

Carson noticed him looking. "He and Teyla went to the debriefing with Dr. Weir. And if they know what's good for them, they'll be getting some sleep before they come back in the morning."

"What makes you think I was looking for Sheppard?" Rodney snapped. He had been, of course, but he wasn't really sure why, other than that the man had said he'd be back. "I was just wondering how Ford was doing," he added.

"Concussion, fractured arm, dislocated shoulder, 3 cracked ribs that mercifully did not puncture a lung," Carson catalogued as he swabbed the blood from the back of Rodney's hand. "But he'll recover just fine. He's actually quite lucky. He was awake for a bit—concerned about you."

"Really?" Rodney asked doubtfully.

"Aye." If Carson noticed the tone, he gave no indication. "How are you feeling now?"

Rodney took quick stock of his condition. "Fine."

Carson quirked an eyebrow at him.

"Fine. My knee hurts, I feel weak and dirty and tired. Happy now?"

Carson cleared his throat slightly. "I was really wantin' to know if ye still felt nauseous."

"Oh. No."

"I might have suggested that you eat something, and then perhaps have sent ye back to your quarters. But now I think we'd best stick with the IV for a wee bit longer."

There was really no use protesting that, as he certainly wasn't prepared to keep anything down. That didn't mean he was happy about it. And when Carson started poking about for another vein to reinsert the IV, he made his feelings known.

"You voodoo practitioners just get some perverse pleasure out of puncturing skin, don't you?" He squirmed, trying to pull away, though it wasn't really a conscious action on his part. Carson forcibly held him still. Rodney was somewhat annoyed by how easily he did so. "And you're stronger than you look," he complained.

"And you're not all that pleasant to be around when ye first wake up," Carson commented as he inserted the needle.

Rodney merely grunted grumpily.

Carson rolled his eyes. "I'm going to get another ice pack for that knee. Stay put."

"Like I could get away," he groused at Carson's retreating back.

But without Carson's presence, his mind began to drift again. He shut his eyes, and promptly regretted it as images of blood-covered bodies once again filled his thoughts. He screwed up his face and turned his head to the side, forcing his breathing to slow.

He might have been drifting again, for he didn't hear footsteps returning. The cold shot through him without warning, and he gasped. "Good Lord, Carson! I'm not sure if I've told you this, but your bedside manner needs serious work!"

"I'm not sure if I've told you this, but you're a lousy patient!" Carson shot back.

Rodney snorted, trying not to grin. This was an argument they'd been having since his first little incident in Antarctica. It had involved a slight case of frostbite, his bare fingers, and water that he still swore hadn't been scalding when he first stuck his hand in it. He'd scrambled into the base hallway, screeching for a doctor, and Carson had been the first of the medical persuasion to get to him. He'd been gentle and soothing and taken great care of him. Then, once he was sure Rodney's fingers would survive, he'd blasted him for his stupid actions and lectured him about taking care of himself and using his brain.

They'd been bickering friends ever since.

He'd quickly learned that Carson had quite the protective streak. So, while his friend was willing to joke with him now, he was also looking concerned.

Sure enough, a moment later he ruined the lightened mood asked, "Would you like to tell me what happened out there?" Carson's voice was soft, understanding.

Rodney's was not. "Am I supposed to believe that Major Sheppard and Teyla didn't tell you?"

Carson tilted his head. "Not the whole story."

"You got an overview. I'm sure it was enough." Rodney turned his focus to the ceiling, essentially shutting him out.

He heard Carson sigh, and had to tighten his jaw when the doctor placed a comforting hand on his arm. "All right, Rodney. I'll drop it for now. Would you like something to help you sleep?"

Rodney allowed his eyes to shut briefly, and nodded.

oOo

Three days later, Rodney sat in his lab examining a new ancient device that had been found. He translated the writing on the side, then moved to touch different parts of the metal in sequence. He smiled triumphantly when it obediently began to hum and glow. He began making notes as he observed it.

Ah, the ability to think clearly. He had missed it.

And it had taken its sweet time coming back. He was having a hard time regaining his equilibrium after his—whatever it was he'd had. He knew what a panic attack felt like; he'd had those before. This has resembled one, but on a massive, lengthy scale.

He tried not to dwell on it. In fact, he tried not to let his thoughts drift past his work. Pesky things—like sleep and breaks to eat and people—were making that difficult.

Sleep, well, after that first night he had avoided it as much as possible. Yes, what Carson had given him had put him to sleep and kept him there. But it hadn't stopped the nightmares. It had simply locked him in them, with no way out.

Food, well, he loved food. And when he was munching on a power bar while working, with his mind elsewhere, he was fine. It was when he stopped to eat a meal that his thoughts revolted and his stomach started churning.

People, well, he was avoiding them as much as possible. Some made it more difficult than others.

Sheppard was getting on his nerves.

He knew the Major had better things to do than lounge around in his lab; knew it for a fact because the man was consistently called away on some matter or another shortly after he arrived. And yet, he kept coming back. Sometimes he just sat, talking about mundane things, trying to illicit banter. Sometimes he physically dragged Rodney to the mess hall for meals. And at the end of each day, he would show up and just annoy him until Rodney finally gave in and allowed himself to be led to his quarters.

What Sheppard didn't know was that Rodney just kept right on working in his room. He worked well into the night, until he couldn't see straight. Then he finally crashed into his bed. When he was exhausted enough, the nightmares stayed away. It was as if his brain didn't have the energy to conjure the memories.

The alarm on his watch went off, interrupting his concentration. He smacked it off in irritation, then groaned slightly as he realized why it had been set.

He had an appointment in the med-lab. He had to go back to see Carson for an injury that was really incredibly minor. The x-rays had shown nothing alarming. The slight swelling had gone down. The knee hardly even hurt anymore, unless he was poking at the bruising.

He felt his good mood dampen. Nothing against Carson, it was just that he would really prefer to avoid the Infirmary altogether.

With a put-upon sigh, he stopped what he was doing and began making his way towards the Infirmary. He was passing by one of the other labs when he overheard his name. Natural curiosity made him slow to a stop just before the door, listening.

"McKay's intelligence, while an interesting point of debate, is not the issue here."

Rodney raised an eyebrow. While he couldn't remember most of the names yet, let alone the voices, he'd recognize that condescending whine anywhere. He set his jaw and leaned closer as Kavanagh continued, "My point was that he clearly has no place in the field."

A female voice chimed in with, "Is it true, then? Was he at fault for the Lieutenant's injuries?"

"He does not know; he was not there. It is all rumor," an accented male voice interjected.

"Sure…based on the official report Sheppard gave," Kavanagh shot back.

"Sheppard blamed him?" a different female voice asked.

Rodney leaned closer, unnervingly interested in that answer himself.

"McKay panicked, and the Major was forced to spilt up the team. Ford was alone with McKay when he was injured."

"So, no one but Lieutenant Ford and Doctor McKay really know what happened. _We_ do not know. And even if some of this is true; the field, it is not easy. None of us have been there. Perhaps we should not judge."

Who was that? The accent said it could only be the Czech, the one who's name he could never remember. Zeruka, or something. The man had just stood up for him when no one else would, he would remember that. Even if he wouldn't remember his name.

Rodney pushed away from the wall and purposefully walked on, not wanting to hear anymore.

"Rodney. How are ye this morning?" Carson greeted cheerfully as he entered the med-lab.

Rodney glared at him, his mood even worse now. "Well, I'm just dandy, Carson. And you?" he returned, his own cheerfulness entirely false.

Carson eyed him a bit warily, but ignored the tone. "Terrific. Thanks for asking. Hop up," he instructed, leading him to a bed.

Rodney had purposefully worn loose pants that would easily roll up past his knee to avoid the part where he had to strip and get into a hospital gown. He hated that part. He made a point of actually hopping, showing that he wasn't in pain. He landed heavily and the bed squeaked in protest.

Rodney ignored Carson's worried, curious look and tried for a subject outside his own person. "So…how's Ford today?"

"He'll be fine."

"Good, good."

"You know, you can see him if ye like. Maybe sit with him for a bit? I know he'd like to see you."

"Yeah, sure. Maybe later. I've got lots of work to do," he responded vaguely. He sat back, leaning his weight on his hands as Carson took hold of the leg and began gently manipulating the knee.

"How does that feel? Any pain?"

"No."

Carson eyed him. "None?"

Rodney shrugged and shook his head.

"Rodney…when you're not complaining, I start to worry."

Rodney met the doctor's concerned gaze. "It really doesn't hurt that much. It's a little sore, but there's no real pain," he insisted truthfully.

"All right." Carson released his leg and rolled the fabric back down for him before nailing him with those blue eyes again. "How did you sleep last night?"

"Like a baby," he said flippantly. But the baby remark had the unexpected effect of a flash to a little blond girl, looking like she was sleeping. He winced and shifted, suddenly quite anxious to get out of here. "Great, fine. Can I go now?" He tried to hop off the bed, but Carson blocked his way.

The Scotsman sighed in concerned frustration. Then he said, "Not just yet. Kate's going to stop by and see ye here. More convenient that way."

Rodney snorted in disbelief, because it was horribly inconvenient for her. It was, however, a convenient way to corner him.

Heightmeyer was a beautiful, smart woman. She was also a stranger. He didn't particularly relish the idea of being vulnerable in front of a beautiful, smart stranger. Hitting on her was one thing. Laying out his emotional baggage was another. Maybe some people found the idea of bearing their souls to a stranger enticing; he didn't.

So when he had seen her for the first time yesterday, not much had actually been said. Yes, he'd been disturbed by the carnage. But when it came to discussing his reactions on the planet, well, he'd pretty much clammed up and insisted he was fine.

He'd had little doubt that she'd go over his head. He just hadn't quite expected it this soon.

"The longer ye just let it stew, the worse it'll get." Carson paused and touched Rodney's arm lightly. "We're worried about you, Rodney."

Rodney sighed and settled back onto the bed. He knew he might as well get it over with. Still, the thought was reigniting his panic instincts.

Unthinkingly he asked, "Will you stay?"

Carson looked at him in surprise, but he was no more shocked than Rodney was at himself. Sure, he had what was for him an unusually strong amount of trust in Carson. That didn't mean he went around displaying it often. Or, ever.

If nothing else, the show of weakness made him quite certain that he wasn't back to normal yet, after all.

He was about to try to retract it when Carson recovered and responded, "If ye want me to, of course I will."

He was relieved by that. Still, he had to try to save his pride. "Well, you know, if you want. I mean, it would probably be good for you to have some psychological training, right? I'm sure you'll have plenty of cause to use it…"

"Totally for my benefit, of course," Carson agreed with a slight grin.

Rodney shut up and gave a curt nod. Carson patted him on the shoulder, and was perhaps about to say something more, but they were interrupted by Kate Heightmeyer's arrival.

"Gentlemen," she greeted warmly.

Rodney merely nodded in her direction.

"Good morning, Doctor. Rodney has asked me to stay, if ye don't mind," Carson said as he got comfortable in the bedside chair.

Rodney his a smirk. So terribly polite, yet so obviously not giving her a real choice in the matter.

If she was put out by this, she gave no outward sign. She just said, "Certainly, Doctor Beckett," and then claimed a stool on the other side of his bed for herself. "So, how have you been sleeping, Doctor McKay?" she began casually.

"I had no idea my sleeping habits were of such interest. If I didn't know better, I'd think you were both hitting on me," he said with a smirk. It fell flat as they both simply looked at him solemnly.

"So, not well then?" Heightmeyer interpreted gently.

He glanced between them uneasily, then began picking at the bed's blanket. "Nightmares," he admitted grudgingly.

"That's to be expected after what you witnessed. How many hours of sleep have you gotten?"

"Well I wasn't counting."

She shrugged. "Estimate for me."

"Couple," he mumbled.

"Couple as in two?" she asked.

"Last night. And at least two more the night before," he said defensively.

Carson was casting him an interesting look that was some sort of cross between concern and exasperation. "Rodney, you know better than that. Why didn't you come to me?"

He shrugged uncomfortably. "I've been busy."

Carson opened his mouth, probably to chastise him, but he glanced in Heightmeyer's direction and then fell silent, allowing her to take the lead.

"Can you function on that amount of sleep?" she asked.

"I seem to be," he shot back, with no small amount of haughtiness.

"Yes, right now you seem to be."

Rodney stared at her, simmering slightly.

She continued, "But as Doctor Beckett can attest, your body will require more. So this is not an entirely healthy habit to get into."

"Really? I didn't know that," he shot at her sarcastically.

"Rodney…" Carson began warningly.

He was beginning to feel like a child being corralled by his parents, an image he was really not all that comfortable with. He pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment, eyes squeezed tightly shut, then said, "Let's just cut to the chase. If you want me to sleep you've got to fix me first, right? So just ask me what you really want to know."

Heightmeyer met his eyes and tilted her head slightly. "Fine. I want you to walk me through what happened on the planet. What did you see? What did you feel?"

Well, he had asked for it. He spent a moment glancing around in vain, calculating his odds of escape. But in the end, he reluctantly began to talk. At first the words came slowly, haltingly, but once he was into the story they began to flow. He told them about the couple he'd found first, and the girl who still haunted him. He told them about how he'd gotten sick, how Ford had stayed with him, and how the Wraith had shown up. When it came to the circumstances that had led to Ford's injuries the words faltered again, but he pushed through and finally got the whole story out.

Describing how he had felt was a bit difficult. "I remember everything, but it's like I wasn't really there. Like it was a dream or something I watched from the sidelines. I went through it all in a haze, from the moment I realized I was kneeling in blood."

They had remained silent, allowing him free reign to get it all out, and he hadn't looked up at them for more than a few seconds the entire time. He had his hands in his lap, fists clinched such that his nails were beginning to dig painfully into his palms. He started when Carson reached over and grasped them gently, forcing him to uncurl his fingers before releasing him. He looked up then and met his friend's eyes. The compassion he found there almost undid him, so he looked away and finished his speech with his final, damning thought. "I made stupid mistakes…I could've gotten us all killed."

"But you didn't. Rodney, you can't dwell on what-ifs," Carson put in. "What happened was not your fault."

He snorted derisively, for he was pretty sure splitting up the team and then alerting the Wraith to their position had been entirely his fault.

"Doctor McKay," Kate redirected his attention with a bit less intensity. "Your reaction was perfectly natural for the trauma you experienced."

He heard the words; knew intellectually that they were true. But…"I thought I was ready for the field. Ready for whatever might come up, or at the very least that I could cope."

"You can never really be ready for something like that," she said softly.

"The others seemed to be. Sheppard hardly blinked."

"Major Sheppard has had years of training and experience. But his lack of an emotional reaction doesn't mean that it wasn't traumatic for him, as well. Soldiers have different ways of processing things. They can't deal with emotional reactions in the field, so they push them aside, to the backs of their minds, to be dealt with later."

He nodded slowly. "Well, my way of processing was inappropriate. And inexcusable."

"Rodney—"

"Don't patronize me, Carson. I can't be out there, reacting like that," he snapped. Then he shook his head and confessed, "The problem is, if it happened again—I think I'd react the same way. If it happened again…I don't think I could handle it."

"So what do you want to do?" Heightmeyer prompted.

He hesitated; thought for a moment about whether he really wished to say it or not. Because he knew that once it was out, he couldn't take it back.

But he thought about the village, and how helpless he'd felt. He thought about the girl, and how he saw her every time he closed his eyes. He thought about Ford, lying in a nearby bed, and he thought about the conversation he'd overheard in the lab and Sheppard's opinions on things.

And, in the end, he said it. "I'm needed much more here on Atlantis, anyway. I think it would be best if I didn't do field work…I want to quit Sheppard's team."

oOo

tbc


End file.
